


The dancing is not a metaphor

by Laramie, LinkWorshiper



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Epistolary, Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:39:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4882459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinkWorshiper/pseuds/LinkWorshiper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Subtitled: Jimmy's Shitty Letter Writing Skills</p><p>When Jimmy said goodbye to Thomas, he said that he wasn't much at letter-writing. He certainly wasn't lying.</p><p>A collab fic between myself and LinkWorshiper, with me writing Thomas and Link writing Jimmy. Winds through series 5. Aaaallll the fluffy angsty feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The dancing is not a metaphor

**Author's Note:**

> This is working on the premise that anything crossed out cannot be read by the other character.
> 
> The size of the gap between letters reflects the number of days that passed between them.

_August 4th, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street_  
_Manchester_

 ~~ _Dear T_~~  
_~~To Tho~~_  
_~~Dear Mr. B~~_  
_Mr. Barrow,_

_Hello. Suppose I’d stick to my word and give writing a trial. I don’t much care for it, really -- it’s too slow for my taste, and nothing ever sounds the way I’d like it to. So forgive me this if it turns out shite._

_I thought of you the other day. I can’t rightly say why. It weren’t really much, come to it, but I’d finally gotten enough wages saved to buy a pocket watch of me owns. I liked the one you carried and I always_ ~~_wante_~~ _coveted it. (There, I’ve confessed.) It’s funny, because I’d gone into it with no other goal in mind, and yet, when I was in the shop, I was sorely tempted by some_ ~~_dreadful_~~ _terribly posh thing that had patterns and that on the casing because I thought it’d make me look sharp. But there was something off about the movement that made me reconsider the impulse and I went back on me gut._

_So now I’ve a plain, pewter one just like yours, and I think I might get it engraved the way you’d done -- though I can’t remember what it was yours said anymore. That’s probably good; wouldn’t want you to think I were trying so hard to be like you. At least I think mine’s got a better chain than yours, though: it’s got a fob with a trefoil on it. It’s very fetching._

_Anyway, that’s what made me think of you. So I thought I’d write._

~~_Yours_~~  
_Sincerely,  
_ _Jimmy Kent_

 _PS  
_ _Tell Daisy I also think of her baking. My landlady is absolute rubbish at it, and I think I might starve to death at this rate._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _10th August, 1924_  
_Downton Abbey_  
_Yorkshire_

_Dear Jimmy,_

_I was glad to receive your letter the other day. Please don't feel that you have to write something worthy of Chaucer - I am happy just to hear your news._

_On which note, I see from your return address that you're in Manchester - what brings you there? I rather assumed that you would make your way to London in search of opportunity. And you write of wages - have you found employment? If so, I’m glad that you have found your feet, though I don’t know how things have been between your leaving and writing your letter. I hope all has been well for you._

_The most important part of a pocket watch is definitely its interior; a pretty one with a bad movement isn't worth anything except as a decoration on the mantelpiece, whereas a plain one that keeps good time is, ironically enough, worth its weight in gold. I hope that the one you chose will give you many years of good service._

_Don’t worry: I am quite sure that you do not wish to be like me. Nevertheless, perhaps you will remember me occasionally, when you check your watch. (Perhaps this means that every time you are running late, you will think of me scolding you for it, as I had to at Downton; in which case, I apologise, as that is not something I would wish on you.)_

_I've been thinking lately about loyalty, and the thing is, ever since we became friends you've always stuck by me. I think you’re the only person who has ever done that. Miss Baxter certainly seems to have no understanding of the word. After I brought her here, with her checkered past, she turned against me and she’s still trying to play the saint. I know I never really told you, but we were quite close once upon a time. Years ago - decades, I suppose, though that makes me feel old. She was friends with my sister. Now she’s just being interfering. Molesley is being tiresome where Baxter is concerned._

_There are more tugs of loyalty here, too - Mr Carson still wants to make a garden of remembrance on the cricket pitch, but his Lordship is loyal to his game and wants to put the memorial in the centre of the village. It feels like a waste of time to me; if you’ve someone to remember, they’ll stay in your thoughts, no need for some fancy block of stone or patch of flowers. It all seems far too polished and pretty for what it was really like out there._

_Did you hear the King on the wireless a few months ago? Lady Rose managed to convince his Lordship to get one for the house, and we all had to stand about listening to it. I don’t suppose you have much interest in the King but there’s a lot of music on the wireless, which I’m sure would appeal to you._

_All else is as you left it, though the house is quiet without you causing mischief. I told Daisy that you think of her baking and she seemed pleased enough. She joked that she would send you a chocolate cake, if you’re starving too badly. She seems to miss you, but not as much as me, as I am -_

_Your friend,  
_ _Thomas Barrow_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _August 30th, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street_  
_Manchester_

_Mr. Barrow,_

_Manchester’s alright. It was much cheaper to get to than London. Faster, too. I doubt I’d’ve done much better in London anyway, and city smog is city smog. I got a job round the corner at the cinema; I play the piano for the flicks. I don’t know if I like it because it’s got me starting to hate the pictures. It’s a slog. I wish me life were more like a film, though. Or maybe I wish it didn’t feel so much like one. It’s hard to sort the difference._

_There’s a few war memorials ‘round in Manchester. I try to avoid them when I can. Thinking on the war makes me anxious._ ~~_Lots of things make me_ ~~ _Best to pretend it never happened most days. It’s easier._

_Me landlady has got a wireless in the parlor. I only heard a little bit of the King’s speech before I got annoyed having to be around everyone else who boards here all at once. I keep to myself, mostly. The other men who stay here are tiresome. They seem to have nothing better to do than flirt with the landlady’s daughter. She’s nice enough, I suppose, but boring. Everyone here is just dull, dull, dull. So much for big city life._

_Tell Daisy I would do anything to try one of her sticky toffee puddings again. The way she does custard is aces next to the piss they’ve got here._

_Sincerely,  
_ _Jimmy Kent_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _7th September, 1924_  
_Downton Abbey_  
_Yorkshire_

_Dear Jimmy,_

_London’s a long way, right enough. I went there myself just recently; it felt as though the train would never stop. Manchester’s much closer. Almost close enough for me to come and see you. I wish I could have done, instead of going to London. You know, I’ve known you for four years now, and they’ve been the best four years of my life. I miss you so much. Sometimes I think I’ll forget how much I love you and that scares me to death, even though it’s what all this is in aid of. I just don’t want to be alone any more. I think of you every day, every hour. I’m trying to be happy, like you said, and I don’t know how else to do it. I wish_

**[unsent]**

_7th September, 1924_  
_Downton Abbey_  
_Yorkshire_

_Dear Jimmy,_

_London’s a long way, right enough. I went there myself just recently; it felt as though the train would never stop. Manchester’s much closer._

_I would have thought this would be your perfect job: playing the piano and watching films all day. Has the standard of pictures taken a downturn recently? I haven’t had chance to see any. Which film would you like your life to be more like - or which type? Not ‘I Will Repay’, I hope. I think we’ve had enough of revolutionaries with Tom Branson. He has been causing disruption by inviting one of his friends over, who is just as unreasonable as he is. Not that I completely disagree with him, but it’s easy to say that stuff and not do anything when you’ve married yourself into the upstairs lot. I’ll tell you the whole story of his trainwreck of an acquaintanceship with this friend, Miss Bunting._

_I'm not really sure where he found her; some political meeting, I have heard. She got herself invited for dinner, god knows how - she's a schoolteacher. I'd've thought her beneath their notice. But then, if they're having chauffeurs at the table, why stop there? So they were all sitting around the table talking about the normal boring upstairs topics, then Mrs Crawley asked Miss Bunting how her lessons with Daisy were going. His Lordship said some rot about not making “her” unsettled, and Miss Bunting accused him of not knowing Daisy's name, which he clearly didn't, even though he's been perfectly fine to eat off her plate the last however-many years._

_And then, would you believe it, they got Daisy and Mrs Patmore to come upstairs – into the dining room! In the middle of dinner! Old Lady Grantham looked like her head was going to fall off. Mr Carson brought them both upstairs and the old git obviously hadn't told them what was going on (probably too scandalised to say a word of it, you know what Carson's like). The two of them looked like the world was coming to an end. They answered the silly questions and Daisy wittered on about how great learning is and off they went._

_But Miss Bunting wasn't finished with his Lordship, and said that he would like for all of us serfs to stay in our place, and he lost it. He shouted at her, actually_ _ shouted_ _, and stood up from the table. Miss Bunting looked a little bit scared. His Lordship threw his napkin down, banned her from the house and stormed out so sudden and so fast that I couldn't even get to the door in time. So that livened up dinner a bit. Wouldn't mind the woman coming back, but I don't suppose she will._

_Are people more open-minded in Manchester these days? Downton’s such a tiny place full of tiny minds. Even Daisy learning a little bit of maths seems to be too much for them to handle. If you say that the people there are dull, I don’t suppose they’re much better - but maybe you just haven’t met the right people yet. I’m sure you will, soon enough. In the meantime, you will have to put up with your fellow boarders every time you want to hear music you haven’t made yourself._

_Ever the flatterer, aren’t you? I suspect Daisy would be more likely to be charmed if you still lived within 50 miles of her. You never seemed that interested in her when you were here._

_Your friend,  
_ _Thomas Barrow_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _September 13th, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street_  
_Manchester_

_Mr. B,_

_The flicks are boring, the people are boring._ ~~_No one quite lik_ ~~ _I don’t think it’s the other boarders that’s the problem. It’s me who don’t like them, not the other way round. I think they only try to get in with me because I’m the only one the landlady lets her daughter chat to._ ~~ _I think it’s becau_~~ _I don’t know why. Maybe she knows I_ ~~_don’t want_~~  
~~_that I don’t like_~~  
_Probably because I’m_ ~~_not so rough  
_~~ _A charmer, like you say. I don’t know why you say that, though. I’m still nobody’s favourite. Though I think the others respect me because I know what’s a good left hook._

 _I think a maths lesson with Daisy sounds more thrilling than all that. I didn’t know what I had until I were gagging for even a scrap of decent food. Makes me even miss old Alfred. Only a little though._ ~~_Not that it mean_ ~~ _I have standards._

_At least, I guess being away is good for finding what’s an interest at all._

_Best,  
_ _Jimmy Kent_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _24th September, 1924_  
_Downton Abbey_  
_Yorkshire_

_Dear Jimmy,_

_I do wish you had brighter news to recount. I don't like to think of you being unhappy. I hope the gloomy tone of your letter is just because you need to talk about your discontent more than you need to talk about your successes - you've always been the same, if you'll forgive me for saying that. At least, you have as long as I've known you. It sounds as though you're your landlady's favourite lodger, anyway, so that's something; and as ever, you're the centre of attention._

_Now you must tell me how your fellow boarders know anything about your knowledge of punching. I hope you have not been getting into any fights; you know you should keep a handle on that temper of yours. I am quite sure that they do not deserve your time._

_If you're looking for more interesting places and people, I remember a pub on Tib St., in the Northern Quarter, that I went to a few times back when I was over there. A long time ago, of course; I suppose it may all be different now, but then it was a great place. They had live music on Thursdays. Maybe it will prove more entertaining for you than endless films, if it still exists in the same vein._

_And if you still find yourself in need of amusement, well:_

_There has been a police officer sniffing around here, after something or other. I don't much like the look of him but he seems only to be interested in Anna and Mr Bates - and, interestingly, Lady Mary. Mrs Hughes won't say a word on the topic, and believe me I asked. I'm sure she knows something, however. Don't see why we should have to have him hanging around the house, upsetting the routine and everything. Mr Carson just sits there, imperious and untouchable. He's probably never been afraid of a policeman in his life._

_The hour marches on and I am very tired, so I will have to leave this letter for now, but know that I am -_

_Your friend,  
_ _Thomas Barrow_

 

_25th September_

_Dear JIMMY BLOODY KENT_

_Last night I dreamed that you love me and you were curled up behind me, around me, pressed up against me all down my back and holding me so tight. This morning I hurt so badly because you’re not here and I shouldn’t be thinking stuff like this any more.  
_ ~~_I HATE YOU_ ~~

**[unsent]**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _October 8th, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street_  
_Manchester_

_Thomas,_

_Tonight I_ ~~_had a probl_ ~~ _I took a walkabout after work. I like to be on me own at night instead of going back sometimes. I thought I’d have a bevvie at that place you mentioned, but I walked round and round for hours without finding it. Maybe it’s not there anymore. I found somewhere else, though. It’s_ ~~_on Thomas Str_ ~~ _one I won’t forget. The barmaid only had me pay up for half of what I drank. Now I’m right pissed. Sorry for that. At least I got home alright in the end. Everyone was gone to bed as well, so I didn’t have to explain for nowt. Last time I spent the night at a pub, I got back in them middle of brekkie and had a row with this one chap called McCourt. He laughed at the state of me so I broke his nose. He deserved it. He always makes remarks I don’t care for. No one jokes with me anymore. Good. It’s better._

 _Anyhow, I hope you’re well. I should hate to think you’d’ve keeled over dead before I got a chance_ ~~_to tell you_ ~~ _to get back there and gun you down meself. I mean that_ ~~_affect_ ~~ _warmly. That is to say, I just hope you’re well. And happy. I hope you’re very, very happy._ ~~_Without_ ~~ _I know you’ll always manage. Somehow._ ~~_I wish_ ~~

_I’m sorry. I’m really drunk. I’m sorry I’m sor_ ~~_ry I’m sorry I’m sorry_ ~~

_Yours,  
_ _J. K._

 _PS  
_ _I’m good enough at maths to know the proof is in the pudding. Tell Daisy that. Tell me if she laughs at it. Tell me everything._

**[there is a large, formless scribble at the bottom of the page; the missive is stained with ink blotches and a wayward thumbprint]**

 

 

 

 

 

 _October 13th, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street_  
_Manchester_

_Dear Mr. Barrow,_

_It’s been an age since I last heard from you. I must have written something that really bothered you. I wish I could even remember what it is that I said, but whatever it was, it was stupid and I promise I didn’t mean it. I’m embarrassed thinking about how loaded up on the giggle water I was last time I wrote you. I should’ve waited to read it again before I posted it. You’re a person I really don’t deserve. You’re_ ~~_always_ ~~ _usually so tolerant of the shit I put you through._ ~~_I never_ ~~_Half the time, I really don’t mean to_ ~~_hurt y_ ~~

_Just tell me what I’ve bloody done -- what I said and that. Tell me what to do_ ~~_goddammit_ ~~ _! I’d_ ~~_die to_ ~~ _do most anything make it right. I’m sorry I drank so much. It helps me_ ~~_forge_ ~~ _care less. When I’m upset._

_I’m upset a lot._

_Still here,  
_ _Jimmy_

_PS_

**[the letter is only written on half a sheet; the bottom section has been torn off]**

 

 

 _15th October, 1924_  
_Downton Abbey_  
_Yorkshire_

_Dear Jimmy,_

_Don’t think that I have forgotten you - and I am certainly not angry with you. You’ve said nothing terrible, don’t worry. I have written this letter to you so many times in my head, but I have been ill recently, and could not find the energy to pick up a pen. I am sorry for neglecting this correspondence. I did not think that it would bother you very much. I am well again now and will be filling your room with my scribblings. So you’d better be prepared. You can use the letters as kindling; at least they’ll be useful somehow._

_I’m so sorry that you’re unhappy. Is there anything I can do to help you? The war hurt many of us, and you in more ways than one. Perhaps I should have spoken about it with you before; I thought you wanted to let it rest, but if it’s still giving you grief then maybe you should talk about it. If not with me, with someone._

_It’s a shame that the old place on Tib St. has gone. I think that’s where I had my first whiskey; this older boy bought it. I thought my throat was going to catch fire. Come to it, that might be where I started smoking, too. Everyone did there, really - even if you didn’t smoke yourself, you breathed in everyone else’s. Anyway, it was a nice place to spend time. It sounds as though you found somewhere else to pass the evening, though. I’m not sure how good that news is, if it will make you melancholy. Just be careful, please._

_What could McCourt possibly have said to cause you to break his nose? Be mindful of how much you tell me or I may have to come over and punch him myself. That’s not to say that I think you can’t take care of him yourself; clearly you can._

_I’ve reached - if not an agreement, at least some kind of impasse with Miss Baxter. It seems she knows something about loyalty after all. Even if she is half daft._

_I told Daisy about your “proof is in the pudding” joke. She just shook her head at me and asked if I wanted some tea._ _I _ _thought it was amusing, anyway, if that means anything. I take it you don’t want me to send you any more maths problems? And here I thought I was doing you a good turn, keeping you amused._

_We had a few hours out of the house the other day, serving at a point-to-point. It made a change, at least, and it was good to get out into the air for a while. You know how it is; a few weeks at Downton and you forget what the sun even looks like. The fact that there was sun at all was a bloody miracle, to be honest, but at least it stopped the tents being too cold. Oh, and when we got back, Lady Edith had gone off somewhere. The family are making out she’s just off on some joint but it’s obvious they don’t know where she’s gone. Thing is, the next day this farmer’s wife who she’s been spending a lot of time with turned up (I know, a farmer). A farmer who until recently had an adopted kid, and now no longer does. It’s funny: I hear they adopted this kid just after Lady Edith got back from Switzerland. And that’s all I’m saying on the topic - you can draw your own conclusions._

_Please believe that I will never abandon you, for as long as you want_ ~~_m_ ~~ _to talk to me._

 _Your friend,  
_ _Thomas Barrow_

_PS: since we no longer work together, you really can call me Thomas, if you like. You don’t even have to be drunk._

 

 

 

 _October 18th, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street_  
_Manchester_

_Dear Thomas,_

_Why the hell didn’t you get someone to write me sooner that you were ill? What if you’d died? I told you, I’ve got to be the one to kill you, so you can’t die until then. I’ll make you swear it. And I’d never torch your letters. I don’t have much to look forward to these days, but I look forward to those. I didn’t know I would, but I do. I don’t think I ever felt alone until I met you, maybe. Because it never bothered me before. I was alright on my own. And then_ ~~_I met you_ ~~

_I had my first whiskey in a trench. From a flask. You know, I were hardly eighteen when the call went out, but me dad were going and_ ~~_he never thought much_~~ _I wanted to look like a man to him. I guess the joke is that he took a bullet to the brain, and now I’m a man. That’s all I have to say about that._

 _I think I like fighting, though. The stuff what McCourt said to me that got me all buggered weren’t really so bad. I just didn’t like it. He makes fun of how_ ~~_I talk about_ ~~ _neat I keep me hair and such. I think he’s just brassed off the landlady’s daughter fancies me more than him. I don’t give a monkey’s tit about her. But it were a good excuse to clock him one. The landlady let it slide on account of she don’t like the way McCourt gives her lassie the eye. I don’t eye her none._ ~~_Girls don’t_ ~~ _Other people don’t thrill me like that anymore. Probably they never did. Dull._

_I’m glad it’s business as usual back there. The days go by so fast, but now I feel like I’d only just been there. I might even say I miss it. I used to think I’d like to see the world. Now I can, but I don’t want to. I’d trade the whole world for one more day back in that bloody house, serving and curtseying and whatever. Or one more hand of cards with you, Mr. Barrow. I’d even let you win._

_Fondly,  
_ _Jimmy_  

 _PS  
_ _Leave the maths and the puddings and that to Daisy. Please. I prefer the crossword._

 

 _19th October, 1924_  
_Downton Abbey_  
_Yorkshire_

_Dear Jimmy,_

_I won’t be dying any time soon. I feel more like I’ve come alive again. I’m not sure I can swear not to die until you kill me, though; one never knows what will happen and I wouldn’t want to be made a liar to you._

_The dog, though - well. Isis has died. I never thought I’d give a damn for a dog but it’s strange without her trotting about after his Lordship. She was so quiet at the end. His Lordship hardly left her for a moment - she died with the person she loved most, I suppose. We should all be so lucky._

_And more drama at dinner - they have not had much luck with their dinner guests. In this case, Mrs Crawley’s suitor’s son was making remarks about Mrs Crawley and his father not being a good match, and wound up insulting half the family into the bargain. Tom Branson called him a bastard. Ridiculous, the whole lot of them. I don’t really feel like wasting ink and paper on them._

_I’m sure McCourt’s a terribly irritating old boor, but do try not to get yourself into trouble, at least. Or are you to become “Jimmy Kent: Defender of Women’s Honour!” ?_

_If you’re missing the house, you’ve clearly forgotten what it’s like. Especially if you think you’ll be doing any curtseying._

_Truthfully, I’m in a bit of a hurry to write this, as I want to get it off in the evening collection - you see, Lady Rose is to be married on 24th October, so we’re all going to London tomorrow morning. I was thinking, it’s not too much of a detour to go to Manchester on the way back. That would be Saturday 25th. We could meet up for a few hours before I go back to Downton. You could show me your pocket watch. Let me know what you think - reply to Grantham House._

~~_Your loving fr_ ~~

_STOP IT_

**[unsent]**

_19th October, 1924_  
_Downton Abbey_  
_Yorkshire_

_Dear Jimmy,_

_I’m not dying. I feel more like I’ve come alive again. I’m not sure I can swear not to die until you kill me, though; one never knows what will happen and I wouldn’t want to be made a liar._

_The dog, on the other hand - Isis has died. I never thought I’d give a damn for a dog but it’s strange without her trotting about. She was so quiet at the end. His Lordship hardly left her for a moment - she died with the person she loved most, I suppose._

_And more drama at dinner - Mrs Crawley’s suitor’s son was making remarks about Mrs Crawley and his father not being a good match, and wound up insulting half the family into the bargain. Tom Branson called him a bastard. Ridiculous, the whole lot of them._

_I’m sure McCourt’s a terribly irritating old boor, but do try not to get yourself into trouble, at least. Or are you to become “Jimmy Kent: Defender of Women’s Honour!”_

_If you’re missing the house, you’ve clearly forgotten what it’s like. Especially if you think you’ll be doing any curtseying._

_I’m in a bit of a hurry to write this, as I want to get it off in the evening collection - Lady Rose is to be married on 24th October, so we’re all going to London tomorrow morning. I was thinking, it’s not too much of a detour to go to Manchester on the way back. That would be Saturday 25th. We could meet up for a few hours before I go back to Downton. Let me know what you think - reply to Grantham House._

_Thomas_

 

 _October 20th, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street_  
_Manchester_

_Dear ThOMAS,_

_YOU WILL NOT BLOODY D_ ~~_IE WITHOUT ME_ ~~

**[the scribble covering the entire page was enough to tear the paper; unsent]**

 

 _October 21st, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street_  
_Manchester_

_Dear Thomas,_

_I always knew old Branson had it in him. I’d’ve given him a round of applause if I’d been lucky enough to see it._

_I appreciate your effort to glorify me punch-up with stupid McCourt. You_ ~~_(as usua_ ~~ _give me too much credit. It were my fault for getting so worked up over something so stupid. I just wish everyone would leave me alone. I wish I weren’t so_ ~~_godda_ ~~ _pretty. I wish I so ugly, no one noticed me. So I’ve a pretty nice face -- but pretty ain’t everything, right? If I were ugly, then the landlady’s daughter wouldn’t fancy me, and McCourt wouldn’t get so worked up over shite that’s nowt to do with anything but my stupid,_ ~~_bloody, goddamn_ ~~ _face. I hate that none of it’s to do with who the hell is Jimmy Kent. I hate that no o_ ~~ _ne gives a single fuck about_ ~~_I hate it._

_I don’t know if I’m working that Saturday. I’ll try and find out. Matinee shows and all. I’m not sure it’s going to come off. Me boss is a tyrant. I don’t know. But you’ll have to tell me all about Lady Rose’s wedding. That’s a lass who knows what’s a good time. Will you have a cocktail for me? And dance a[bunny hug](https://youtu.be/VpfSx9zwAIQ?t=3m5s) for me as well! _

_Warmest,  
_ _Jimmy_

 _PS  
_ _Here’s the crossword from yesterday’s paper. I filled out some. Maybe you could do the rest if you’re bored on the train._

 

 

 

 

 _October 24th, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street  
_ _Manchester_

 

_Dear Thomas,_

_Jesus Christ in Heaven, I really hope this gets to you in time. I thought about it. I thought about it a lot and I realized that I_ ~~ _need_~~  
_I realized I rea_ ~~ _lly want_~~  
_I’ve_ ~~ _got to see you.  
_~~ _I really miss you. I really do -- I really, really do._

_Let’s meet in Manchester. Let’s meet anywhere. Where there’s dancing and cigarette smoke and you -- let’s just_

**[the ink is hopelessly smudged; unsent]**

 

 

 _25th October, 1924_  
_Downton Abbey_  
_Yorkshire_

_Dear Jimmy,_

_Anna's been arrested. They took her last night. Bates was fuming - I thought he was going to blow a gasket. It's ridiculous that they think she'd do anything._

_I'm writing this on the train, somewhere just past Doncaster (it's good to be back in Yorkshire), so forgive the rather shaky handwriting. I finished the crossword (thank you), apart from 5 down. It's impenetrable to me, I’m afraid. I'll enclose it with this letter in case you have a breakthrough. I'm sending one from one of the London papers, too._

_I suppose you didn’t manage to get today off, then. Maybe another time._

_It's not for me to comment on your appearance but even if you were the ugliest man alive, I'd still_ ~~_lo_ ~~ _be your friend. If you wanted. Maybe you'd be too busy buying special creams and large-brimmed hats to hide your hideous face from the ladies. Molesley would be promoted to number two._

_I bet you wouldn't have given Branson a round of applause. You would have rolled your eyes and badly suppressed a smirk and when we got out the room and I said something about pots and kettles you'd have rolled your eyes at me too. Then we'd have gone outside for smoke and laughed at them all._

_I suppose I should tell you about the wedding, since you asked. Mr Carson didn't think us grand enough so he hired a footman for the week, Andy. I'm not sure how much of an improvement it made; he was a hallboy with no experience, so I ended up training him. He must be brave, to quit a job for a week's work in the hopes of bettering himself. He seemed nice enough, naïve, though. Denker took great advantage of him by bringing him in as fresh meat to a gambling club and taking them for all the alcohol she could drink. He couldn't tie a tie, either._

_I didn't get to see anything of the wedding but I went to the important bit - the reception. Serving, of course, but all the same. You’d be disappointed by it; they had a synagogue blessing but underneath it all it was the same old society event. Not so much drinking and dancing as chatting and circulating. I did have a drink when we went out later, though._

_I'm not sure that I'd want to bunny hug with a stranger. It seems an odd thing to me. Is that a horribly old-fashioned thing to say? But then, I’ve not done much dancing lately. I did the grizzly bear with Daisy once. Do you go dancing over in Manchester very much?_

_In the club, there was a man playing piano all night. Made me think of you and all the times you sat playing rags and classics for everyone. I always enjoyed what you played. I hope I can hear you again some time soon._

_Your friend,  
_ _Thomas Barrow_

 

 

 _October 27th, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street_  
_Manchester_

_Dear Thomas,_

_Sounds like being decent folk is a crime these days. Frustrating business about Anna. She were always nice to me, even when she probably didn’t need to be. I liked the way she never tried to make me feel bad for being_ ~~_close_ ~~ _your closest friend. Though she did have this certain smile sometimes. It made me feel like she knew a joke I didn’t. Usually she would smile that smile at you. I wish I knew what it meant so I could tell if I should be offended or not._

 _I’m glad it seems Lady Rose’s day went off well. Leave it to her to find a way to put their noses out! And they thought that Lady Sybil’s baby going Catholic was the worst of it. Ha! I’d’ve died to see the old codgers in a synagogue! I’m a little sad you didn’t dance for me, even if it were just on your own time. Sometimes the landlady has me play piano and we do a little soree type thing in the parlor. I don’t mind dancing with strangers. All you have to do is close your eyes, and then you’re dancing with whoever you’d like! Are you very good at the grizzly bear? You’ll have_ ~~ _to show me_ ~~ _to dance it with Daisy if I ever get to visit. I’ll even play the piano for you!_

 _Ugh. I suppose it’s only fair that they’d get someone to fill me shoes. It sort of leaves a bad taste in me mouth when I think on it. I didn’t want to go. I never wanted to leave_ ~~_yo_ ~~ _I at least hope the new chappie is nice to you. You let me know if it goes sour. I’ll strangle him meself. I’ll stick me boot so far up his arse, he chokes on it._ ~~_I’ll_ ~~ _You deserve_ ~~_nothing but lo_ ~~   ~~_love_ ~~ _kindness. You’re so kind to me._ ~~_Not many peo_ ~~ _I don’t know what’s so hard to see about that._

 _I suppose that’s what I like best about you: you understand me. You don’t think it’s so bad if I’m rude or something. You see me moods. You actually_ _ like_ _the things about me that no one else does. I can’t say that’s pretty common. You might be surprised to know it, but I think you’re the only one who’s ev_ ~~ _er properly lo  
_ ~~ _who’s ever properly known me. They’re all ten a penny  next to you._

 _I would always hope you’d be_ ~~_mine_ ~~_my friend._

 _For always,  
_ _Jimmy_

 _PS  
_ _You’re a crossword genius, ta. It’s hats off to you that I think I got 5-down. It’s ‘Te amo’._

 _PPS  
_ _Let’s do another together. I like winning at it._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _4th November, 1924_  
_Downton Abbey_  
_Yorkshire_

_Dear Jimmy,_

_It’s a sorry state of affairs, all right. As if Anna would hurt anyone._

_She was just teasing me with that smile; don’t worry about it. She wasn’t used to seeing me with a friend or_ ~~_s_ ~~ _anything. Probably didn’t think me capable. Well, no - I think she did. I think that’s why she was smiling._

_I know, honestly. Sometimes I think the Crawley women pick their husbands just to annoy the rest of the family. A lawyer, a chauffeur, a Catholic, a man who couldn't walk, and now a Jewish man. Of course, there's some overlap there. Her Ladyship didn't seem to mind Mr Aldridge so much - that's Lady Rose's new husband - her family were Jewish, after all._

_I'm sorry if my disinclination to stick my face on a stranger offends you. Maybe I should dance right now, in my bedroom, with no strangers or anyone at all. I'll do you a solo tango with no one to see._

_There. And you'll never know if I did or not! For the record, I am fantastic at the grizzly bear. Daisy and I would be happy to give you a demonstration, I'm sure._

_It's not fair if they use other languages in the crossword. Are we in England or not?! Congratulations, all the same. I'm sending you this morning's crossword in return. I've done the first half of the down clues and the first half of the across clues, and left you the second halves of each._

_I got on well with Andy, I think, but he was only there for the week that we were in London for the wedding. He's gone now. So you can retract your threats of violence. And no one could fill your shoes, you daft man. They're far too smelly._

_I'm flattered that you think I understand you even a little. I do try to be kind to you._

_Your friend (for always),  
_ _Thomas_

 

 

 _November 6th, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street_  
_Manchester_

_Dear Thomas,_

_I would guess that if anyone had an idea that you aren’t as scary as you think you are, it’d be Anna. I don’t think she’s scared of much. She’s not scared of Mr. Bates anyway. Tough little thing. She’ll make it through. I_ ~~_hope_ ~~ _think._

 _I’d say something not nice about money and the Crawley women, but I think whoever Lady Rose likes, she really means it. I caught her kissing a working class bloke in the delivery yard once. She didn’t yell at me or nothing. She just asked me to keep it under me hat. She said we’d be friends if I did. I don’t know if we’re really friends, but I believed her. Though I have to admit I were a bit jealous of her. Of her and that bloke I saw her with, I mean. Seeing them, I thought to meself how nice it must be to kiss somebody on account of you wanted to. I’ll tell you a secret,_ ~~_Tho_ ~~ _Mr. Barrow: I ain’t never kissed anyone_ ~~_I ever caught feel_ ~~ _on account of I wanted to._ ~~_I could lie and say to you that_ ~~ _I came close a bunch of times._ ~~_Once._ ~~ _Seems I just try, try, try until it comes out wrong, I suppose. That’s me whole life, really._ ~~_Small and scared and f_ ~~ _Full of terrible things is Jimmy Kent._

 _Suppose that’s why I don’t mind dancing with folks I don’t know. Really, sometimes I think it’s better when I do. Then it’s more like a game, and I don’t have to be disappointed that I can’t dance with_ ~~_the sort_ ~~ _anyone that matters. It’s not like kissing -- because kissing, you know if it’s not anyone good. But dancing -- everyone likes dancing, and everyone dances the same. But I don’t like to think of you dancing alone. Maybe_ ~~_I should take_ ~~ _we should go out dancing. I owe you for blowing you off when you were up from London. I’d’ve liked to see you. I’d’ve rathered a drink with you than being in the pub alone. Which is what my sorry night ended up like. Maybe I could get that bunny hug out of you if we got pissed enough. Or even your famous grizzly bear!_

 _It’s coming on Christmas, you know. Most of the tenants in the boarding house are preparing to go off to their families already. Even McCourt seems to have relatives that don’t hate him. It’s just me and the landlady and her daughter for the holiday months it seems. But I were thinking, while it’s quiet_ ~~_maybe if you wanted, you could_ ~~  

 _Whatever it is, I’m glad you seem well. Happy. I’d hate to hear you’re anything but happy. I know it’s not a lot, but I at least hope you’ve not tired of me yet._ ~~_Don’t tire of me yet._ ~~

_For always,  
_ _J--_

 _PS  
_ _I only knew ‘Te amo’ because it were on me short list of things I were thinking to get engraved on me watch. Don’t ask me why. In the meantime, I’ve got plenty of puzzles to keep me busy._

 

 

 

 

 _10th November, 1924_  
_Brancaster Castle_  
_Northumberland_

_Dear Jimmy,_

 

 

_God, I’d kiss you for weeks on end if you wanted me. I’d dance with you for days._

_I wish it weren’t so hard to keep from telling you how much I love you. I couldn’t bear to make things awkward but some days I dream of you from dawn ‘til dusk, when I’m eating breakfast, writing inventories, serving at meals, anything._

_I miss you._

**[unsent]**

_10th November, 1924_  
_Brancaster Castle_  
_Northumberland_

_Dear Jimmy,_

_I’ll have you know I’m the most terrifying man this side of the Pennines, and I’ll thank you not to ruin my carefully cultivated and well-earned reputation._

_I don’t know if I ought to talk to you about kissing. Thank you for confiding in me, though. It means a lot that you’d trust me enough to tell me something like that._

_About dancing - I don’t agree with you, I’m afraid. I don’t think everyone dances the same. And this is coming from someone who’s danced with people ranging from a dowager to a shop_ ~~_b_ ~~ _worker. I’m not saying that class makes any difference, but everyone moves differently, and it changes depending on what it means; on how much it means. It’s better with a person one cares about._

 _Don’t worry about me dancing alone - I just meant to make it up to you for not dancing in London like you asked. It was supposed to be a kind of joke. I think I’d like to go out dancing_ ~~_wi_ ~~ _\- we could terrorise the women of Manchester together. Or York, if you want to travel. Wherever you want. I promise you a grizzly bear demonstration. I absolutely do not promise anything to do with a bunny hug._

_Did you ever get that watch of yours engraved? If so, what did you settle on?_

_As you’ll have seen from the return address, I’m up in Northumberland. The Sinderbys (Lady Rose’s in-laws) are hosting a grouse shoot. Which of course means days of standing out in the cold loading guns for someone else to shoot with. Bloody November. Couldn’t they have waited for spring? My fingers and toes are going to freeze right off, I swear. It’s indignity after indignity here. The butler, Stowell, is a right old triptaker - it’s almost enough to put me on Tom Branson’s side. Stowell doesn’t approve of Branson’s working class background. Seems unfair to make such a big deal of Stowell’s behaviour when all Branson’s done to earn his place is marry someone he loved._ ~~_If I_ ~~ _But then, all the others have done is be born to the right parents. Regardless, I don’t like Stowell one bit._

_Daisy’s despondent again, with the Tories back in. She seems to feel that the Labour government have personally betrayed her for not getting themselves elected again. She relied on them too much, I think. She ought to fight for what she wants in life. She is in a way, I suppose, with trying to get an education and that. It’s all easy for her anyway - she’s married herself into a farm._

_Are you looking forward to Christmas? It sounds like it’ll be a quiet affair for you this year. I’ve got used to noisy servants celebrations now; I’ve had plenty of them. I suppose the noise and the bustle makes it easier to forget - well, a lot of things. Maybe too easy; I barely remember family Christmases any more. Most days, I know that’s a good thing. It would be nice to see a friend this year, if only that were possible. I enjoyed the Christmases you and I spent at Downton._

_Your friend (for always),  
_ _Thomas_

_PS: There’s nothing terrible about you. Nothing at all._

 

 

 

 

 _November 14th, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street_  
_Manchester_

_Dear Thomas,_

_Some people might think you’re terrifying. I don’t. I think you’re_ ~~_amaz_ ~~ ~~_lovely_ ~~ _the best_ ~~_a man cou_ ~~ _friend a man could want. I’d talk to you about everything in the world if I could. I’d hope you’d want to tell me anything, too. I’d love to listen._ ~~_I could listen to you for_ ~~ _Even just reading about how you’ve been getting on the best part of any day. It reminds me that you’re my dearest_ ~~_, dearest_ ~~ _friend._

 _I think you’ve just laid out a challenge. I’ll get you to bunny hug. Even if_ ~~_I’ve got to grab you and_ ~~ _it’s the last thing I do! I quite like the idea of us taking to the streets together. No Mr. Carson to tell us to reign it in or anything. We could be as mad and bad as we like!_

 _Anyway, I would sincerely enjoy it if you managed to get to Manchester for the holidays. I think the landlady would like to have a new face around the house._ ~~_You could stay w_ ~~ _There’ll be plenty of spare rooms if you wanted to put up for a little bit. It’d be far less expensive than a hotel if you decided to._

 _As always,  
_ _J--_

 _PS  
_ _The engraving is silly now that it’s done. I think I’m embarrassed to say. I were a bit impulsive with it in the end. Get me drunk when you come round Manchester, and maybe I’ll tell you then._

**[unsent]**

_November 14th, 1924_  
_27 Chepstow Street_  
_Manchester_

_Dear Thomas,_

_I hope it didn’t bother you, all that talk about kissing. The truth is that I think about it a lot. Especially when I’m in me cups. Kissing and that, I mean. I still think about the one time I nearly kissed someone that made me stir -- how I woke up in the night kissing you, and I thought it were just another dream I’d dreamed. Because I’d dreamed that dream a hundred times. I dreamed that dream the first night I spent at Downton. I dreamed it again every day I saw you pass me by. And every day, I’d carefully repeat the phrases in hopes that what I heard from you weren’t just in me dreams and I --_ **[scribble, scribble scribble]**

 _I WANT TO TAKE YOU OUT DANCING. I WANT TO HOLD YOU NEAR LIKE NO ONE’S LOOKING AND LEAD YOU ACROSS THE FLOOR. I WANT TO BUNNY HUG WITH YOU. OR GRIZZLY BEAR. WALTZ. TANGO_ ~~ _Ooo_ ~~ **[scribble]**

 _I can’t say how SORRY I am for saying the things I thought I had to. I were so afraid of jail or being sacked or a million things that don’t matter. It terrified me more how every time you’d go by, me heart would pound hard enough to give me pain. I’d scream into me pillow in frustration almost every night when I’d catch meself thinking on how much I’d like to touch ~~youuuuu~~ Now I just cry meself to sleep because it didn’t stop. I get pissed to make it go away, but it’s only worse how much I sti ~~ll lo~~ _ **[scribbleSCRIBBLESCRIBBLEAUUHGHHHHHHH]**

 _Yours, yours, yours,_  
_For always, yours,_  
J--

**[the sheet is creased like it’s been balled up and then flattened beneath a heavy book]**

 

 

 _November 16th, 1924_  
_Brancaster Castle_  
_Northumberland_

_Jimmy,_

_I don’t understand. Are you teasing me? I’m afraid I don’t get it. And I wouldn’t have thought you’d_ ~~_be cruel enough_ ~~ _want to joke about this. Or do you want a love letter to give to that landlady’s daughter? Or to pretend that you’ve a lover already, to hold her off? You know I’d do it if you asked._ ~~_I’d do_ ~~ _You don’t have to trick me into it._

 _I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry my actions hurt you. I never intended that._ ~~_I only_ ~~ _I’m sorry, I know I was wrong._

 _I just don’t understand what you’re saying._ ~~_It sounds li_ ~~   ~~_do you_ ~~   ~~_don’t make me hope, I can’t bear_ ~~

_Please_ ~~_tel_ ~~   ~~_exp_ ~~   ~~_what are_ ~~

_Your_ ~~ _s_ ~~ _friend_  
_for always  
_ _T_

_16 November_

_Maeve,_

_Something of an emergency has come up. Please tell your mother that I’ve had to change my plans for the holidays. Give her my apologies. I know she were expecting me. Thank her for treating me like I were family and that. I just realized I had to get_ ~~_to someo_ ~~ _home after all._

 _But I’ll confide in you this last time before I go. Do you remember the day I showed you the new inscription I got done on me pocketwatch? You asked me what it meant since it were in Latin. I lied to you about it. I don’t remember what I said, but I lied. The truth is that it’s about the_ ~~_man_ ~~ _one I_ _ love_ _. Love like a riot in the heart. Someone I love so much I were afraid to be. Someone I love so bloody_ _ much_ _that every time I look at the time, I think only about_ ~~_hi_ ~~ _how much of it I’ve lost by hiding away._

 _But I realized it’s been killing me. The_ ~~_weight_ ~~_wait -- it’s killing me. There’s no time like the present. Or something_ ~~_just as stupid_ ~~ _Ruin, rapture -- there’s only one thing to be done._

_I hope you understand me._

_\-- James_

 

 

 _November 18th, 1924_  
_Le_ ~~ _eds Central Railw  
_ ~~_Leeds_

_Dear Thomas,_

~~_If you read this  
_ ~~ _I hope you read this. After embarrassing myself, I’d understand if you never want to read anything I ever write ever again. I were afraid I’d do something like that. Putting pen to paper -- it makes me nervous the ~~drink~~ ink’s going to say something for me. Out comes the secrets I thought I’d lie in me grave with. Now I’ve spoiled everything _ ~~_with you_~~   _and I can’t stand it._

 _I’m sorry that this is brief, but I’ve put me whole life in a suitcase. Now I’m in transit. It’s been a trial_ ~~_beggin_ ~~ _scrapping up enough for a railway ticket so I’m stuck here for a tick. But I’m heading back towards Ripon_ ~~ _and on_~~ _. Maybe, if you wanted to write back, send it on to that pub we used to drink at. The one near the dance hall. I hope you remember it_ ~~_like I do_ ~~   _But you don’t have to. I’d understand if you didn’t want to. I don’t know why you never get cross with me. But you should be. I’d understand, I swear. Just tell me to go away and I will. I’ll do_ ~~_whatever you_ ~~

_This trip has given me lots of time to think. I can’t wait to lay me hands on a piano again. I think I’ve invented a tune_ ~~_for you_ ~~_that makes_ ~~_me think of_~~ _want to dance all night._

 _For always, always, always,  
_ _J--_

 _PS  
_ _Ad astra per aspera._

 _That’s what I got on me watch. And now I’m finally doing it -- I’m fighting to get to_ ~~_y ou_~~   _those goddamn stars._

_I’ll get there or I’ll die trying._

~~_I’m coming for yo ._ ~~

 

 _19th November, 1924_  
_Brancaster Castle_  
_Northumberland_

_Dear Mr Braithwaite,_

_I enclose a note for a Mr James Kent, who is soon to arrive at your premises. I would greatly appreciate it if you could hold this letter until he arrives, and pass it on to him._

_Yours thankfully,  
_ _Mr T. Barrow_

 

**[inside an inner envelope]**

_Jimmy,_

_You're scaring me, what are you doing? Are you all right? Do you need help? For God's sake, the moment I go to Northumberland you go to Ripon. It would be comical if it weren't so frustrating._

_You've not spoiled anything with me. Do you think I've been lying all these times I've signed off? Your friend, for always. It's not just pretty words. It's a promise. It's a fact. And friends don’t abandon each other._

_Of course I damn well remember that pub. We spent enough evenings there to start paying rent._

_Just_ _ tell me you’re all right._   _Please._

 _Your friend,_  
_For_ _ always_ _,_  
_Thomas_

_PS: I’ll be back at Downton by the 23rd. Reply to there if you can’t write sooner._

 

 

 

 

 _23rd November, 1924_  
_Downton Abbey_  
_Yorkshire_

_Dear Jimmy,_

_I have a day off tomorrow. I’m going to Ripon, to see you, if you’re there. I need to see you. If you’re not there, I don’t know. I’ll look for you. I told Mr Carson I have family troubles and he grumbled a bit but I think I’d get away with an extra day or two if necessary. I’ll take them anyway if I have to._

_It’s strange to write to you when I don’t know if you’ll receive it._

_Ripon tomorrow, then._ ~~_I’m coming for y_ ~~

_Your friend,_  
_For always,_  
_Thomas_

 _November 23, 1924_  
_The Knave’s Public House and Inn_  
_Ripon_

_Dear Thomas,_

_I’m here. I don’t know if you read me last letter or even got it, but I’m here. I’m here, and I’ll wait._

_I’ll wait for you._

~~_I’ve been waiting me whol  
_ ~~ _I’ll wait me whole life_ ~~_for you_ ~~ _for you._

_J--_

 

 

_25th November, 1924_

_Dearest,_

_Here are some things I will never forget about last night:_

_\- Holding you as you sobbed about how sorry you are, as though you didn’t already have my unwavering forgiveness._

_\- The way your voice is so much lovelier than your pen._

_\- Your beautiful fingers playing beautiful music (for me) on the piano of a public house. _

_\- You admitting that I was right about who you dance with._

_\- The look on your face while I undid the buttons of your shirt._

_\- The way you wanted to hold my hand as we fell asleep._

_\- The sound of your breathing and the beat of your heart when I awoke this morning._

_You’re sleeping as I write this and I know you won’t want me to tell you how sweet you look so I won’t. Much. I have to get back to the Abbey and I can’t bear to wake you, so I’ll leave you with this and a kiss before I go._

_See you tomorrow, my love._

_Yours,_  
_For always,_  
_T_

 

 

 


End file.
